


Where You Are

by jane_x80



Category: NCIS
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Slash, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: McGee takes Tony home and cares for him after an undercover op almost goes awry, and Tony is injured. The op opens McGee's eyes to Tony, and slowly things begin to develop. Or do they? It's all terribly unclear.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WestEndBroadwayBaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WestEndBroadwayBaby/gifts).



> This story is for WestEndBroadwayBaby. I hope you enjoy this. Merry Christmas!
> 
> Love,  
> Your Secret Santa

It was very strange. Tim had never really given any thought about Tony in that way. After all, he was Tony. Very Special Agent DiNozzo. He was a ladies’ man and proud of it. He’d had a gazillion girlfriends in the years since Tim had met him. He was the one who Director Shepard had trusted to seduce the daughter of a dangerous arms dealer. And he’d done such a great job that the poor woman had actually fallen in love with him, and that had come back to bite the man in the ass in more ways than one. While Tim was no stranger to bedmates of the masculine variety, and Tony DiNozzo was a prime example of a good looking man, he had never even entertained the idea that Tony might be as flexible as he was in his sexuality.

But after this last undercover assignment, Tim had to rethink just about everything he’d thought he’d known about Tony. He was sitting in the dark, in his bedroom, in his apartment, watching as Tony slept in his bed. After what had happened, Tony even looked different to him.

It didn’t help that Tony was covered in bruises. Both of his eyes had been blackened, one of them so swollen now he probably wouldn’t be able to see properly out of it for a few days. Luckily he had not sustained any damage to the orbital sockets, despite how awful his eyes looked right now. He had been beaten up and two seconds away from being sexually assaulted by the time Tim and the team breached the building that Tony was being held in. And to see Tony, on his knees, bound and naked, splayed open, ready to be violated had been quite a shock. Tim had almost shot the man with his huge, erect dick out about to shove it into Tony’s ass, just on principle, even though the man had hurriedly backed away from his friend. There was an o-ring gag in Tony’s mouth so he wouldn’t bite down on the next person to fuck his mouth. Apparently, he had done damage to someone earlier, when they thought he would just sit there and take it.

Good, Tim thought. Tony was not one to take anything lying down, and he had certainly done what he could to defend himself against the perpetrators.

But this case had been horrendous. When the bodies of former US Navy men started being discovered, at first no one had made the connection that they had all been former Navy men. The connection seemed to be in their age and rough appearance – late thirties, mid forties, all with short brown hair. All good looking. And all of them down on their luck. Many of them had probably been prostituting themselves, even if they had menial day jobs or temp jobs. The FBI worked the case until they finally cottoned on to the fact that these were all former US Navy, and then they looped NCIS in on their case.

When the MCRT got involved, the investigation began concentrating on the naval connection. But upon a more detailed look, this connection became tenuous. The vics might have been former US Navy but other than that, their time in the Navy had been varied. They had had different positions and different ranks, from enlisted to officers. Some had been honorably discharged, some dishonorably discharged. All had been stationed in different places, on different ships, with different commanding officers. Nothing there to really connect them.

So the theory went back to the vics being chosen because they were men, down on their luck, who were selling their bodies for money, and the perp was gunning for former US Navy men who fit this bill. And of course, Tony fit the basic physical description of the vics to a tee, which of course made him the logical person to be sent undercover, when they found that the vics had patronized a few different gay bars and clubs to ply their trade.

So Tony had been sent out as their former US Navy hooker and he had, of course, thrown himself into the role. Tim had expected him to be somewhat hesitant, given the fact that Tony had been absolutely crystal clear about his heterosexuality the entire time Tim knew him, but it turned out Tony apparently had no problems coming on to men and kissing and touching them.

The first time that Tim had seen Tony kiss some random stranger in the bar where he was supposedly trying to pick up johns, Tim knew that he was blushing, and he knew that all of a sudden he wanted to be someplace else entirely. He’d watched Tony kiss many women over the years, from Ziva when they were posing undercover as a married couple, to all kinds of one night stands. But this, this was somehow different. It was more visceral. Tony was kissing a guy, tongue and all, and the guy had his hands on Tony’s ass and was pulling him tight against him.

Tim tried not to choke on his drink. He had never expected to see Tony do anything like this with a man. Or he would have had all kinds of other delicious thoughts about his Senior Field Agent going back years and years. And now that he had seen it, he couldn’t unring that bell and he knew that he would be adding Tony into his fantasies. Goddamn it.

And then he had to watch as Tony made the rounds. His fake johns were FBI and NCIS plants at the different bars and clubs. They would go out back or to the restroom, and Tony would return attractively mussed even though the two men wouldn’t have actually had sex or anything even close to it. But in order to make it look even more real, Tony ended up taking money and doing a few real blow jobs for a few of the bar regulars who were known johns.

He turned up at work the next day, grim faced and just waiting for Ziva to start in on him, but Gibbs had growled that anyone saying anything about what Tony had had to do had better be ready to take his place that night, and Ziva had clammed up pretty quickly. It had been a tense time, but Tony got through it by focusing on the case and ignoring pretty much everything else. And then a couple nights later, it happened. Tony was taken from a club after agreeing to meet with a john outside, and the MCRT and the FBI had gone after him (god bless the GPS tracker embedded in Tony’s skin) and the transmitter hidden in the stud in Tony’s ear, so they were able to track and locate him, plus they heard and recorded everything that had gone on.

Tim wasn’t entirely sure about the motives of the man who had abducted Tony, but he could hardly believe how much damage the man had caused to Tony in such a short time. Gibbs had sent him to accompany Tony to the hospital and Tony had clutched at his hand, refusing to let him leave during his examinations and treatments, barely staving off a panic attack at being touched by strangers. And finally, when it was all over, and the hospital had wanted to keep Tony overnight, then, he had a full blown panic attack.

He wanted to leave. He insisted on it. He adamantly refused to stay. The hospital was not a secure place, he insisted. The guy or one of his friends could turn up. Tony would be vulnerable. Tony couldn’t take it. Tony was freaking out, and Tim couldn’t fault him for it. He’d only been the one to walk into the attempted rape and he was still completely freaked out by it. He hadn’t even been the guy naked and bound and about to be brutalized after being thoroughly beaten up.

Gibbs had taken one look at his agent and allowed him to sign himself out against medical advice. Tony would have made it harder and more dangerous on himself, because he would have definitely just left the hospital if he had been ordered to stay. The minute everyone’s backs was turned, Tony would have up and disappeared. And after all that the man had been through, surely he deserved to have this one request, to not have to stay the night at the hospital when it made him feel helpless and insecure. Gibbs understood that and had asked Tim to take Tony home and stay with him as he still had to go back to work and liaise with the FBI, and Tim had immediately agreed.

So he had ushered Tony, now clad in hospital scrubs and those thick socks with the little rubber circles on the bottom to prevent feet from slipping, into his car and started driving him away from the hospital. And Tony had fallen asleep in his passenger seat, barely conscious of what was going on around him, happy now that he was leaving the hated hospital.

Tim realized halfway through the drive that he didn’t have Tony’s apartment keys, and Tony didn’t have anything on him other than the scrubs and the socks. And he didn’t think Tony would appreciate him breaking out the lockpicks to get into the apartment, so he ended up taking Tony home to his own apartment instead. Which was where they were now, and why Tony was currently asleep in his bed. Tim had managed to get Tony into his home, get him to drink a glass of water and take some aspirin, per the doctor’s orders, but he wasn’t able to persuade Tony to eat anything so they would have to start the antibiotics in the morning as it was one of the meds that the doctors had insisted needed to be taken with food.

And Tony had been so exhausted and still quite traumatized, that Tim thought that it was better for him to just crash for a few hours. He would try the food and antibiotics later, after Tony didn’t look so much like a victim anymore. When he didn’t have that haunted look in his eyes, like he was expecting to be hurt further, even though he knew that he was safe again.

So after Tony had fallen asleep, Tim settled in on his couch, and had actually been asleep when he was woken by screams. He ran into the bedroom, gun out, but Tony was alone and by this time cowering under the blankets, the screams tapering off as he jerked awake.

Tim put the gun down and turned the light off, going to the bed, speaking softly.

“It’s OK, Tony. It’s me. It’s McGee. You’re OK. You’re safe,” he repeated over and over. “You’re safe now.”

After a few more whimpers, Tim couldn’t help himself. He reached out a hand and began gently petting Tony’s hair.

“You’re safe, Tony. It’s just me. It’s McGee. Your Probie.”

“Probie?” Tony gasped.

“Yup.”

“Where the hell am I?” he asked.

“My place. I didn’t have your apartment keys and you were so out of it. So I brought you home with me. Is that OK?”

“Time is it?” Tony ignored the question.

Tim glanced at his watch. “0227.”

Tony sighed, slowly relaxing and maybe even leaning into Tim’s hand a little. He had continued to run his fingers through Tony’s sweaty hair, fingernails scratching Tony’s scalp gently, trying to keep his touch gentle and soothing.

“Sorry,” Tony whispered. “Sorry for putting you out.”

“It’s fine,” Tim answered.

“Shit, you should have put me on your couch.”

“You’re in no shape to crash on a couch.”

Tim could feel that the older man was still trembling. “Relax, Tony. Go back to sleep.”

Tony nodded. Tim pulled his hand away from Tony’s soft hair and stood, and Tony made a noise that was like a strangled whimper.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?” Tony sounded like he was about to panic again.

“You want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

“You don’t have to,” came the quiet, sad response.

“I want to,” Tim told him. “Let me go get a chair and I’ll be right back, OK? You want the lights on while I’m gone?”

“Please,” Tony whispered.

“It’s OK. You’re OK,” Tim ran his fingers through Tony’s hair once, and turned the bedside lamp on. Tony flinched when the light turned on, and Tim had to stop himself from recoiling from the wreckage that was Tony’s poor face now. “Gonna get you some ice for your face, too.”

“Too late for that,” Tony smiled a little, and the cut in his lip split open.

“Aaand you’re bleeding. Hold on a sec, OK?” Tim ran to the bathroom and came back with a cold washcloth which he pressed to Tony’s full bottom lip. “I’ll be right back, OK? Just one minute?”

Tony nodded, holding the cold cloth to his lip, keeping his eyes down. Tim petted Tony’s head once more and had to resist the urge he suddenly had to lean down and kiss the man’s forehead. Instead he hurried out and was back in a moment, dragging a chair in with him. He helped Tony settle back down and placed the ice packs on his face, and took the washcloth away, examining Tony’s lip.

“Bleeding’s stopped,” he said softly. “It’s going to keep reopening for a while so you’re going to need to just relax and keep it still until it scabs over. OK?”

“Not my first go around,” Tony gave him a pathetic little grin.

Tim pulled the chair close to the bed, turned the lights off, and blew out a soft breath. “Try and get some more sleep, OK? I’ll stay right here until you’re asleep.”

“OK,” Tony sounded small and hesitant again.

“Shhh,” Tim leaned closer, and buried his fingers in Tony’s hair again. “Sleep, Tony. I got you. I’m on your six. I promise.”

Tony gradually relaxed and started to fall asleep again, but when Tim started to pull his hand away, Tony sleepily protested. Smiling to himself, Tim went back to petting his hair. Tony’s hair was ridiculously soft. It was no wonder Gibbs liked to slap him in the back of his head. He could so easily get addicted to the feel of Tony’s hair under his fingers. He sighed and sternly told himself to not get carried away. He was caring for a Tony that was coming off of a rough assignment. He wasn’t suddenly going to get on Tony’s radar as someone who he might be interested in, despite the events of the past week. Despite finding out about Tony and his apparently less straight than originally thought of sexuality, and despite having already jerked off in the shower to the memory of the sounds of Tony giving head to random strangers over the comms, he, Tim wasn’t under any illusions that Tony would now sit up and kiss him of all people, no matter what it was that he might want. So he put that thought aside, and continued to caress Tony’s hair until he was soundly asleep again. Then he leaned back and stared at the man sleeping in his bed.

Since Tim had the kind of brain that needed to analyze and understand everything, he started cataloguing all of the new things he had learned about Tony. Tony was probably bisexual. Tony had almost been raped and murdered that night. Tony had always been so incredibly attractive that it had actually hurt Tim to look at him in the beginning. But now, after years of working with the man and seeing the good and the bad, he knew that Tony was a good man underneath all that bluster. And that Tony had always had his entire team’s back. And Tony had always been leagues above him on a social scale. His sexuality had never mattered because it wasn’t like Tony had been an option for him, but now that he knew that Tony sometimes swung towards men, it made him sad that after this, Tony would be part of his new sexual fantasies, but he would have to continue to see him at work and act normal on a daily basis. He would have to hide the fact that Tony’s coy glances would now make his heart race, and that smile of his. Shit. That smile of his could stop traffic. Tony credited his smile for getting him the job at NCIS, and despite all evidence to the contrary, Tim had never doubted that story.

He sighed, grabbed the ice packs off Tony’s face, and made his way back to the living room and to his cold and lonely couch.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. Don’t think about the fact that Tony is sleeping in _your_ bed. Because he’s sleeping in your bed _without you_. He’s in there, alone and hurt, and you are to keep your scruffy mitts off of him while he’s all vulnerable and shit. And you will be a good friend to the man because god knows, after the night he’s had, he needs it.

So, with this ringing through his head, he relaxed and tried to go back to sleep. He was in a fitful doze when the cries from the bedroom woke him. He was back in there in a flash, brandishing his weapon. But again, it was Tony crying out from nightmares.

“Tony,” he gently shook Tony’s shoulder. “Tony!”

The SFA jerked awake, almost head butting Tim as he bounced up into a sitting position. He groaned, rubbing his fractured ribs. Tim winced in sympathy. It was probably quite painful now that he’d sat up so suddenly that way.

“Shhh, Tony, it’s just me,” he whispered softly. “It’s Probie.” His fingers went back into Tony’s hair, and even though Tony was gasping for breath, he could feel the tension begin to ebb out of the man. Tony carefully laid himself back down, trying to slow his racing pulse and harsh pants. He was finally breathing almost normally again but then he started trembling. His entire body shuddered and spasmed as he trembled.

Could a nightmare cause symptoms of shock Tim wondered to himself.

“Fuck,” Tim put a hand gently on Tony’s lightly stubbled cheek. “I’m going to call Ducky, OK?”

“No, no,” Tony grabbed his hand. “No doctors. I’m fine. I just need a little time.”

Tim gave him a concerned look but nodded. “Are you cold?”

Tony bit his lip and nodded, as he continued to shiver.

“Let me get you another blanket,” Tim rummaged in his closet and pulled out another comforter. He spread it on his bed and tucked Tony in snugly. “Better?”

Tony nodded wordlessly.

Tim sighed.

“I’m fine. You go back to sleep. Sorry I keep waking you,” Tony told him.

“Just shut up, OK?” Tim growled at him. “You’re still shivering.”

“Can’t seem to stop,” Tony said in a small voice.

Tim felt his forehead and ran a hand down his arm. “You feel really cold.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll warm up in a minute.”

Tim sighed loudly. “You want me to get on the bed and help warm you up? Body heat?” he offered.

“No funny business?”

Tim could see the stress in Tony’s face, and he shook his head solemnly.

Tony stared sharply at him for a moment before he bit his lip and nodded.

Tim stood and got in the bed on the other side, which was what he thought of as ‘his’ side when he didn’t sleep alone. Conveniently, Tony was not sleeping on his side of the bed, and he laid down on top of the blankets. He tried to pull Tony into his arms when the older man continued to be wracked with tremors.

“Might work better if you got under the covers,” Tony said softly, after they struggled for a moment to get comfortable.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Tim asked, worried that it might trigger the trauma that Tony seemed to be reliving that night.

“No funny business, right?”

“I promise.”

“Won’t be a problem for me then,” Tony shook his head. “It’s you. You’re McGee.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just me. McGee. Just your Probie. OK?”

“OK,” Tony’s voice was soft.

Tim nodded and slipped under the covers. This time when he carefully pulled Tony into his arms, minding his ribs, the older man buried his face in Tim’s chest and wrapped an arm around his chest, plastering himself on to Tim’s prone form. Tim ran a hand up and down Tony’s back, feeling Tony sigh in relief as he slowly stopped shivering. Before long, Tony was taking even breaths and his body started to relax and unknot. He was asleep again.

Tim chanced it. He dropped a soft kiss in Tony’s hair. The man in his arms mumbled and smiled in his sleep, burrowing into Tim as if he were a teddy bear, but he didn’t awaken.

Tim couldn’t help but smile to himself, glad that Tony was finally asleep again. He fully meant to slip out of bed and sleep in the chair by the bed, but Tony’s hold on him did not loosen. And even though he didn’t mean to, he accidentally fell asleep, still holding Tony in his arms, and still rubbing Tony’s back gently.

Tim woke up when he felt the warm body in his arms start trembling and breathing hard. Tony was having another nightmare.

“Shhhh,” he rubbed Tony’s back as soothingly as he could, up and down, burying his fingers in the hair at the back of Tony’s head when his hand went up, and rubbing his back all the way down, practically to his ass. He continued to do this until the man relaxed again, breathing deeply and evenly. He leaned his head on Tony’s, kissed his forehead, and closed his eyes again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Tim opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming in through his bedroom windows. He had forgotten to pull the blinds. He laid in bed, feeling warm and relaxed. He still had an armful of DiNozzo tucked into his chest, and it was a pretty nice feeling. He could get used to this.

Immediately, Tim backtracked. Even in his head. Remember what we talked about last night, he told himself. Tony was still out of his league. Tony was Tony. Even if Tony dated men, it did not mean that he would date Tim. Tony was gorgeous and sleek and sophisticated and popular and athletic and everything Tim wasn’t. Time to face the truth and stop daydreaming about DiNozzo. Even if the man was snuffling so friggin’ adorably into his chest.

Tim smiled down at Tony who was still snuggled into his body, one arm flung almost proprietarily around him. Even if Tim wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Not without waking Tony, at least. He carefully reached over to his nightstand, trying not to jar the sleeping DiNozzo in his arm, and grabbed his phone to check what time it was. It was definitely time for him to get up. Gibbs would want to debrief Tony and they all still had reports to write, but he was glad that at least, this morning, Gibbs seemed to be giving them extra time. Tony still looked exhausted and bruises bloomed in blues, dark reds and purples all over his face and his body. He needed time to recover from his ordeal. And Tim needed to ensure that that haunted look in Tony’s eyes was gone when they woke up.

He sent a quick text to Abby to ask her to let Gibbs know that Tony was still asleep and had had a bad night. Abby replied back that Gibbs had told Tim to let Tony take whatever time he needed. So then Tim settled in to wait for Tony to wake up, one arm still around the man, the other holding his phone up as he started scrolling through the news feeds and his social networking accounts.

It was over an hour later before slowly Tony began surfacing into consciousness. He hummed appreciatively and snuggled into Tim’s chest, his fingers skimming over Tim’s nipple which immediately hardened and puckered up under the thin t-shirt that he was wearing. Tim could feel Tony’s morning wood dig into his hip which made his own dick stand up and pay attention. His heart was pounding and he didn’t know what he should do – wake Tony up or just let him continue to fondle him. It was certainly not an unpleasant feeling. But he didn’t know how Tony would react if he woke up plastered to Tim and feeling him up. Especially since he had promised the man no funny business the previous night.

Before he could make a decision, Tony lifted his head up and blinked at him, eyelids heavy and still drowsy.

“McGee?” he rasped out, his voice hoarse.

“Hey,” Tim smiled down at him and put his phone down. “Good morning.”

Tony glanced down and took in how he was lying. Then his head whipped back up, to meet Tim’s gaze. “Huh,” he said, casually giving Tim’s nipple a final tweak before he moved his hand away. “Sorry. I’ve been told I kind of have… uh, space issues when bedsharing.”

After worrying so much about Tony’s state of mind after the events of the previous day, the absolute normalcy of Tony’s statement made Tim snort with laughter.

“It’s cool,” Tim told him. “I don’t mind.”

Tony gave him a questioning look but didn’t say anything else, but he gingerly turned to lie on his back, groaning when his ribs protested the move. “Ow,” he breathed out softly, eyes closed, face screwed up in pain.

“I’m going to get some breakfast together so you can take your meds. Come out when you’re ready. No hurry,” Tim pushed the covers off of himself, although he made sure Tony remained covered. He felt Tony’s eyes on his body as he stood and he knew that he still had probably more than just a semi hard on going. Hell, even a saint would sport some wood in the mornings with someone like Tony sleeping in the bed with them and working on their nipples. But since Tony didn’t say anything about it, Tim didn’t either. He just slipped sweatpants on over his boxers and padded out of the bedroom. He felt Tony’s eyes on him the whole way.

Ten minutes later, Tony shuffled out of the bedroom, still clad in hospital scrubs, limping a little, and holding his torso at a stiff angle. Tim flipped the pancake he was making and inclined his head at the table.

“Sit. Coffee’s coming up.”

“We should get to work,” Tony eased himself down into a chair with a pained grunt.

“Gibbs said you can take your time.”

“Fuck,” Tony pouted as Tim poured him a cup of coffee and brought it to the table, along with the sugar and cream. “I hate when he does that.”

“Why? He’s being, you know, reasonable about things. You should probably have stayed in the hospital another couple days.”

“I hate when he’s nice,” Tony grumbled. “Makes me twitch. Makes me feel like I did something wrong and he’s just waiting to pounce on me.”

“You didn’t do _anything_ wrong,” Tim told him, and the force in his words made Tony look up from doctoring his coffee.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Tony nodded at the stove. “Pancake’s burning,” he said mildly.

“Fuck!” Tim rushed to rescue their breakfast.

After they demolished the pancakes, bacon and eggs that Tim made, the younger agent handed Tony the antibiotics and the painkillers. Tony took the antibiotics but whined at the painkillers.

“You know how I get with painkillers, McGee,” he pouted. “Loopy. I get fuckin’ loopy. I don’t need to be shooting my mouth at this debrief, OK? I think I’ll get enough grief already for this fucking op.”

“They’re the non-loopy kind. Ducky made sure. And it’s only a half of the recommended dose so it’ll just take the edge off your pain and you’ll still have full control of yourself,” Tim told him. “And if anyone gives you grief for this op, I’ll make sure that none of their credit cards work until they apologize to you. Gibbs’ll back me on this.”

Tony gave Tim another startled look before the younger agent saw that he was going to dig in and object to the painkillers again.

“Take it,” Tim said sternly before Tony could start whining again. “Or I’ll call Gibbs and he’ll order you to take it.”

Tony sighed, his lower lip sticking out. The lip that was twice its usual fullness – which was certainly more than full enough for Tim and doubly so now – and starting to scab over. But Tim stood there holding the pill out. Tony sighed noisily before he took the pill, glared at Tim and swallowed it.

“Do I need to check that you didn’t hide it under your tongue?” Tim asked.

Tony stuck his tongue out and gave Tim full view of his mouth, including under his tongue. “I swallowed it,” he grumbled.

“More coffee?” Tim asked brightly.

“Fuck, yeah,” Tony sighed. “Please.”

Afterwards, they took turns showering and Tim laid out some of his own clothes. He’d lost a bunch of his puppy fat in the last year or so, but he’d kept some of his older clothes. Not that Tony was in any way overweight, but he was stockier and more muscular than Tim was now, and his new clothes would probably be uncomfortable and tight enough to put pressure on the bruises that were scattered all over Tony’s body. He hesitated for a moment but left a pair of boxers out for Tony to wear as well. It was weird to have someone else wear his underwear but, he couldn’t decide whether it was more titillating for him to know that Tony was wearing _his_ boxers under his clothes, or that Tony was going commando under his clothes. Either way, Tony’s junk would be in direct contact with some of his clothes, and if he didn’t stop thinking about it, he would definitely want to start hyperventilating. And stuff.

He retreated from the bedroom, leaving the clothes out on the bed while Tony showered. In the meantime, he logged on to his work email and started on reports and other work while he waited. A half hour later, Tony emerged from the bedroom, wearing Tim’s clothes. The dress shirt was a little snug around Tony’s shoulder and chest, and the black jeans were a little loose around his waist, but he didn’t look too bad. Shit. The man couldn’t look bad even if he tried.

Tony’s face was still all bruised, his one eye definitely badly swollen, practically swollen shut, but he grinned at Tim. He pointed to his bare feet.

“I don’t suppose you have flip flops or something I could borrow?” he wiggled his toes.

Tim rolled his eyes. He’d forgotten footwear. Tony’s feet were a size bigger than his so he wouldn’t be able to cram them into his shoes. But he dug through his closet and came out with a pair of brown leather moccasin-like things that his grandmother had sent him. They were soft and lined with some kind of – probably real – fur, and had leather strips criss crossing up the shins. But they were too big on him.

“You can keep them. Too big for me,” he snickered as he handed them over.

Tony glared at him. “I’m contemplating going to work in those rubber soled socks instead of these, I’ll have you know,” he sniffed.

“I could probably find something else. Bedroom slippers? I don’t really do flip flops. I hate having my big toe separated from the rest of my other toes, and well, sometimes the flip flop material gives me hives.”

“You are so weird,” Tony told him. He sat down, still holding his torso stiffly, and pulled the one of the moccasins on. “Ooooh. Soft,” he cooed.

“I know. I was kind of bummed they didn’t fit me.”

“Don’t tell me you bought them for LARPing or something,” Tony grunted trying to bend over to work the straps.

“Just keep still,” Tim told him, kneeling down and pulling Tony’s pant legs up, and he deftly criss crossed the straps up Tony’s calf and told himself not to notice the muscle tone or how the hair on Tony’s legs were lighter in color than the hair on his head or how soft the skin on Tony’s calf was. “Penelope sent them to me. How would you know what LARPing is anyway?”

“I know all kinds of things, Probie,” Tony sniffed haughtily.

Tim looked up from where he was at Tony’s feet and grinned at him. “I guess you do.”

Tony stared at him in silence before Tim stood and offered him a hand. Tony took it and allowed Tim to help pull him upright and Tony limped slowly with him downstairs and to his car. But when they walked into their building, Tony’s limp magically disappeared and he walked a lot less stiffly, hiding all traces of pain when people could see him. Tim couldn’t help but think of the scene in _The Usual Suspects_ when the Kevin Spacey character straightened up and walked differently and looked completely different at the end of the movie, blending in with the crowd, never to be recognized again. He smothered a grin when he realized that he had likened Tony to a movie character. He would totally love that that happened. But he kept silent, escorting Tony through the building. Up in the bullpen, he nodded politely to the op members still assembled there, including the FBI agents assigned to the case, and immediately they were all thrown back into the work of finishing up the paperwork for the case. No one gave Tony any flak and he was treated with nothing but respect, for which Tim was grateful.

Gibbs and Fornell had completed the interrogations and everything seemed to be all buttoned up. All loose ends tied. All of the dead former Naval men had been accounted for and their killers brought to justice. Tony’s work had enabled them to close the case definitively. Gibbs took it easy on Tony for the rest of the week, but after that, they were back full tilt on casework. Tony returned Tim’s clothes (minus the moccasins) a couple of days later, dry cleaned and pressed, with a polite, hand written thank you note on classy, expensive card stock. Tim shook his head at the note. Tony was such a bundle of contradictions. He would be as crass and explicit as anything when he described a date he’d gone on, but then he went and did little things like include a thank you note with dry cleaned borrowed clothing that made him think that Tony was hiding some refined manners under there somewhere.

It was about a week later that Tim was walking out with Tony that he saw Tony do a reverse Keyser Söze and transform from the at-work ball of energy that he usually was, to a slouching, limping, still stiffly walking injured man.

“Shit, Tony,” Tim murmured. “You should still be taking it easy.”

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes, not even giving Tim another look. “I’m fine.”

“You been taking your painkillers?”

“Finished the antibiotics yesterday.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tony sighed. “It’s fine,” he scrubbed his hand over his face and suddenly, Tim could see his exhaustion. There were bags under his eyes and Tim kept thinking about how Tony had slept terribly that night at his apartment. Nightmares. Maybe he was still plagued by them and not sleeping well.

“You want to maybe come eat dinner with me?” Tim offered tentatively.

“I’m tired,” Tony murmured.

“You’ve got to eat.”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on. We can order from that pizza place by my apartment that you like.”

Tony perked up at the mention of pizza.

“Sausage, pepperoni,” Tim tempted him. “Extra cheeeese.”

“Mmm. That _is_ my favorite.”

“Come on, then.” Tim grabbed Tony’s arm and steered him to his car and Tony was tired enough that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care that Tim opened his passenger door and nudged Tony in. He groaned as he folded himself in and Tim knew then that Tony’s ribs were still in bad shape. He called for pizza, timing it so it would arrive about the same time as they would and then Tony was blearily sitting on his couch, munching on a slice, more asleep than awake, eating as if by rote and deriving no pleasure from it. After Tony finished a couple of slices, Tim handed him a pain pill, watched him swallow it without argument, pulled him upright and pushed him towards the bathroom.

“The gray toothbrush that you used last week is still in there,” he said.

Tony nodded. After a few minutes, he came out and stripped out of his clothes, right down to his boxers, and Tim saw the different shades of bruises all over his body – greens, and yellows, although many were still an angry purple. Even if he wanted to admire the play of muscles on Tony’s body, he would have preferred to see the usual golden expanse of skin instead of this rainbow of hurt. Pain was not one of Tim’s kinks. He watched as Tony pulled a pillow off the bed and started heading back to the living room.

Tim huffed with frustration and gently grabbed his bicep, steering him back towards the bed. “Get in there,” he told him.

Tony gave him a tired look, sighed and crawled under the covers, allowing Tim to tuck him in. When he moved away, Tony grabbed his hand.

“I’ll be right back. I have to brush my teeth and stuff, too,” he told the man.

Tony gave him another pitiful look.

Tim felt the need to reassure him. “I won’t sleep on the couch.”

Long look from bleary, blood shot green eyes before a slight nod, allowing Tim to leave. Tim showered, brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. By the time he was done, Tony seemed to be fast asleep, lying on his side, his body turned towards Tim’s side of the bed. For a moment, all he could do was look down and drink in the sight of his Senior Field Agent, still bruised and battered and utterly exhausted, but still one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, sleeping in his bed. He couldn’t catch his breath for a second. He was about to turn away and tiptoe to the couch – how could he slide into bed with this man when he wanted to do more than just sleep with him? But Tony’s eyes blinked open and he frowned and pulled the covers up on Tim’s side.

Sure, he was weak, but who could blame him, when those fabulous green eyes gave him that look that he must have learned from Gibbs. That ‘Do Not Question Me, Asshole’ look. Tim climbed in and laid on his back, getting comfortable. Tony laid a hand on Tim’s chest and his eyes closed and his breaths evened out, asleep right away. Tim sighed and carefully laced his fingers with Tony’s on his chest.

The older man grumbled in his sleep and scooted up closer, snuggling into Tim’s chest, their fingers still laced together. He dropped a sleepy kiss on Tim’s hand, mumbled something that Tim couldn’t quite make out, and then exhaustion took him and he was out. Tim held himself as still as he could for a few minutes, just feeling Tony’s warmth against his side and the pads of Tony’s fingers loosely touching the back of his hand, the hand that was interlaced with Tony’s. It felt like every point of contact was warm and welcoming. He looked down and found himself breathing in deeply, inhaling the scent of Tony’s hair.

He squirmed one arm under Tony and gently pulled him closer, and Tony willingly shifted, even though the movement must have jarred an injury because he groaned in his sleep. But after he resettled, seemingly by plastering every inch of skin he could on Tim – the man was not kidding about his ‘space issues’ when bedsharing – he was relaxed again, and definitely out like a light.

Tim had an arm around Tony’s shoulder now, the other hand on his chest, holding Tony’s hand. He sighed. This was not strictly a ‘friend’ thing now, was it? The first time the bedsharing happened, he had been trying to stop Tony from having nightmares. This? What was his excuse this time? And what was the meaning of the handholding that had happened?

Shit. He was in trouble. Wasn’t he?

He laid there, running a hand up and down Tony’s back, running his fingers through his hair, and hearing Tony’s contented hums and sighs as he slept. He felt calm. Happy, even. His heart was full. He was happy to be where Tony was. Maybe it wasn’t the time to analyze and figure out what the hell was happening. Maybe he just needed to go with it and be happy about it.

Fuck. He was in _so_ much trouble now.

The next morning, when Tim’s alarm woke them both, Tony was mostly sleeping on top of Tim, head and torso pillowed on Tim’s chest, one leg thrown around both of his, and one arm around his neck, holding him close. He snorted awake, and blinked as Tim squirmed under him to reach the alarm clock.

“Time is it?” he asked, not bothering to move off Tim.

“Time to get and up go to work.”

Tony yawned and sighed, and stretched carefully, still on top of the younger man. “I haven’t slept so well in a long time,” he muttered. He dropped a kiss absently on Tim’s jaw before he pushed himself up slowly onto his hands and knees.

“You want to shower first or shall I?” Tony asked him.

Tim shrugged. “Go ahead. I showered last night.”

And that was the extent of their conversation. Tony was surprisingly very quiet and subdued in the mornings when he first awoke. After his shower, Tony found a clean shirt in his backpack and pulled it on but he put the same suit on that he had on the previous day. Although, it would be far from the first time that Tony had done the walk of shame straight to work and he didn’t seem to give a shit about it, so Tim didn’t offer him more of his own clothes. They ate bowls of cereal and then Tim drove them both to work.

For the next couple of months, every week to ten days, Tim would see that look on Tony’s face and he would talk Tony into coming home with him. They spent the evenings the same way. Eating dinner. They ate pizza. Chinese. Thai. Whatever that would deliver to his apartment, and in DC Tim could get pretty much anything delivered for them to eat. And then they went to bed. And slept. They didn’t even pretend that Tim or Tony would sleep on the couch. They just settled in to their respective sides and Tony would end up cuddled up with Tim’s arm around him, caressing him. In the morning, they would get up and go to work. And they never, ever, talked about it.


	3. Chapter 3

And then Tony came up with some lame excuse – some movie or other that he wanted Tim to see, and they would end up at Tim’s apartment afterwards, even though Tony wasn’t exhausted or hurt, ordering food if they hadn’t grabbed something while they were out, and then going to bed. Or else, they would go straight to Tim’s after work, order in food, and watch TV or Netflix, and they even started snuggling on the couch together, Tim’s arms around Tony’s shoulder, before going to bed. Essentially the same routine as before except that Tony wasn’t completely exhausted or at the end of his rope, and much more coherent and awake, doing something together before they went to sleep. And of course, the snuggling on the couch was new. But Tim never said no, never told Tony he was too busy or had no time for him. Hell, he secretly canceled plans he’d already made if Tony wanted to come over. Because that would mean that Tony would spend the night and Tim would never tell Tony not to spend the night. Tim looked forward to spending the nights with Tony in his bed and in his arms. And it was just becoming what they did. But of course, they still never talked about what it was they were doing.

One day, Tim made an offhand suggestion that Tony could maybe leave a couple of suits in his closet so he could have clean clothes for their mornings after, and even though Tony glared at him, the next time Tony came over, Tim found a garment bag hanging in his closet, out of the way, not taking up much room. It wasn’t long before Tim wordlessly emptied out a drawer and started putting Tony’s underwear, socks and other things from his go bag in it, and when Tony discovered his drawer, he and Tim exchanged a hostile look but that was it. No words were exchanged. But Tony’s things stayed in Tim’s closet and in his drawer.

Tim found himself buying bottles of Tony’s shampoo and conditioner when he was buying his own at the store, and leaving it in the shower for Tony to discover, and his toothbrush and Tony’s occupied his toothbrush holder in the bathroom, Tony’s never going more than a few days without being used. Tony starting bringing drinks and groceries in – cereal, eggs, milk, beer, mostly the basics – and just started helping Tim keep his refrigerator stocked. Tim slowly realized that he slept better when Tony stayed over. He slept deeply and dreamlessly, and always awakened refreshed, if somewhat confused by the little touches Tony would bestow on him. A kiss on the jaw, or the temple, even the cheek. Sometimes Tony would run his fingers through Tim’s hair, or over his pecs. But even though they weren’t exactly green light touches, they never strayed into the red. And both men seemed to ignore the fact that they usually woke up with morning wood – Tony’s was usually ground into Tim’s hip in the morning – even though Tim usually ended up needing to jerk off in the shower some of those mornings, and trying not to make too much noise, or god forbid, call out Tony’s name when he came.

It was a strange sort of relationship, if you could even call it that. They had become so comfortable around each other that some nights, Tim would sit at his typewriter and chew on his pipe, trying to write, while Tony sat on the couch, quietly watching a movie on his laptop with headphones on. It surprised Tim how little room Tony took up. How little noise he made. How easily he fit into Tim’s quiet lifestyle. For as loud and messy as Tony seemed to be at work, he was a surprisingly quiet and neat person out of work. He watched movies quietly, headphones on if Tim didn’t feel like watching a movie with him. Or sometimes Tony would put sports on the TV, not something Tim was particularly into, but unlike his father the admiral, Tony didn’t pace up and down and yell at the TV when things happened. He sat on the couch, biting his fingernails, pulling at his hair, and smacking his own legs while muttering angrily if things weren’t going his team’s way. Tony was so much more contained than his father. And Tony was always cleaning up after himself. One night Tim was up in the middle of the night, peeing, when he suddenly realized that he hadn’t cleaned his bathroom in over a month and yet it was clean. Spotless, even. He didn’t have a cleaning service. Had never gotten around to hiring one, always thinking that he didn’t really like having strangers around his things and that he could clean up after himself even if he didn’t like doing it. But his bathroom did look suspiciously clean. Had Tony been cleaning his apartment for him? He wandered into the living room and looked around. Nothing was dusty. Everything was perfectly in its place but not a speck of dust could be seen, despite the fact that he was, at best, a mediocre housekeeper.

Huh. Well, he might be more than half in love with the man and regularly jerked off to images of Tony practically naked in his bed, but he didn’t think that one of the advantages of having Tony around would be a clean apartment. If anyone had ever said that to him before this, he would have laughed at them. He would have thought it was the opposite, that Tony would explode everywhere in his life and add to his clutter.

But still, they never talked about what it was they were doing outside of work. Because what was it, really? Tim had no clue what it was. They didn’t have sex. They didn’t even really kiss. It wasn’t passionate, (don’t say ‘yet’, he told himself), but it was the most intimate he had ever been with anyone in his life. But yet, they remained the same at work – Tony was his usual idiotic, brash, brilliant self, and they bickered with Ziva with the usual amount of fervor. Tony continued to flirt with whoever the hell he pleased, just like he always did, and presumably he still went out on dates on the nights Tony didn’t turn up at Tim’s. Everything was _exactly_ the same at work. Whatever it was that happened in Tim’s apartment – or didn’t happen, as the case might be – it was somehow completely separate from what was going on at work.

Until the day Tony did what he always seemed to do. Throw himself into danger like a stupid, fucking idiotic lunk. Tim didn’t understand it. Of course some people were called to do certain things, like serve their country in the various branches of the military, or to be cops, to protect and serve the citizenry. But sometimes, it seemed to him that Tony felt like it was his duty to throw his life away. Sure, Gibbs might have that instinct at times, but it seemed like Gibbs did it out of a sense of duty, because it was something he felt compelled to do because it needed to be done. But with Tony, it felt to Tim that he threw himself into danger because he somehow felt that it was better he be the sacrifice than anyone else because in his head, he wasn’t as valuable as everyone else. It had been another of those bundle of contradiction realizations that Tim had had – Tony was full of bluster and swagger and self confidence, and projected the image of the perfect everything. But yet, when it came down to it, Tony seemed to have very little self worth. He worked himself to the bone, worked hurt, worked sick, worked like a dog and was always the first to jump in front of a bullet because god forbid the rest of his team get hurt instead of him.

Tim started to notice it even more when their weird relationship started – Tony never made a mess that he didn’t immediately clean up, and he tried not to take up any room in Tim’s closet and drawers and bathroom. Tim wondered, how many different boarding schools had Tony been sent to as a child, because other than his penchant for sleeping directly on Tim in the bed, he somehow managed to take up almost no space. He seemed to be operating on the premise that he needed to be ready to be able to move on with the things he cared about in one bag. Tim was a Navy brat and no stranger to being dragged around from pillar to post, but at least he had always had all of his things, and his family all moved with him. He had never been sent away by himself. But Tony seemed to be ready to move on, or even worse, ready to be _asked_ to move on, all alone, and that made Tim sad and made him want to do more for the man, an urge he curbed as much as he could. No reason to scare Tony away with something as mundane as love and acceptance. Because Tony would be scared away by it. Of that, he had no doubt.

But then Tony, being Tony, did the fucking dumbest thing that he could. They were working on a case where someone was bombing different US Navy ceremonies and functions that weren’t on bases. The team had fanned out along with the bomb squad, trying to move the crowd to safety and locate the device. They were all on comms, reporting in. When someone finally found the device, they had very little time left and instead of trying to defuse it, they were moving people away to a safe distance. The area had been cleared and the timer counting down rapidly when somehow, there was a child running alone in the danger zone. A boy, no older than five or so.

Tim watched as Tony unhesitatingly ran into the blast area, grabbed the child and was frantically running out, hoisting the boy against his side and hauling him off his feet in his rush. The bomb blast forced Tony and the boy up into the air and Tim knew he was screaming the man’s name as he watched as Tony somehow managed twist himself while airborne, to fold the kid into his arms, protecting him with his body. They landed over fifteen feet away, Tony’s body landing heavily with a loud thump that sounded like a body crumpling. Tim and Gibbs were scrambling towards them when the kid poked a head out from under Tony’s arm. He staggered upright and was swept up by Gibbs, while Tim skidded onto his knees by Tony’s body. Tony was unmoving and Tim knew that he couldn’t move him, in case there was damage to the spine. He felt for a pulse and shuddered with relief when it was there, strong and steady.

EMTs pushed him aside and began working on Tony. It was soon clear that despite the rough landing and the proximity to the blast, Tony was mostly fine. One shoulder was dislocated, and a knee needed to be x-rayed, and he would be in a lot of pain from the blast itself, but he was not in mortal danger. They secured him to a backboard as a precaution for transportation to the hospital. And the kid was somehow, miraculously, completely unharmed. But Tim stood there helplessly, watching as the EMTs moved Tony, securely strapped onto a backboard, into an ambulance and then he had to go back to work as if he didn’t need to go with Tony to ensure that he was OK, that he wasn’t scared or freaked out again.

But after the work was all over, and Tony was still at the hospital, he ended up there, just standing in the corner of the room and watching as Gibbs, Ziva, Abby and Ducky fussed over him, and Tony whined about wanting to go home. His arm was in a sling, and he would be wearing a knee brace and using crutches for a couple of weeks and his doctors were adamant that he needed to stay overnight. And this time, he wasn’t a traumatized victim of attempted rape, so Gibbs ordered him to stay. As the night went on, one by one the teammates left. When only Gibbs was left, he gave Tim a look.

“You stayin’ for a while?” he asked his junior agent.

Tim nodded grimly.

“Call if you want to go home and I’ll swing by and stay with him.”

“I got him,” Tim insisted, gritting his teeth.

Gibbs gave him a long look before he nodded and gave him a grunt that passed as a goodbye and exited. Tim waited until they were alone before he approached the bed, having kept his distance all evening. Tony looked up at him, green eyes puzzled and worried.

“You OK, McGee?” he asked, trying to scrutinize him.

Tim took a deep breath. Don’t yell at the man, he told himself. Yelling was not going to help. Yelling was _not_ going to help this any.

“You’re such an _asshole!_ ” Tim yelled.

OK. Well, yelling was apparently how they were going to approach this.

Tony’s expression immediately became guarded.

“You do _not_ get to leap into a bomb blast without me!” Tim lowered his voice, not wanting to attract the attention of any medical personnel, although he was still as emphatic and angry. “You _do not_ just fucking jump into danger without any regard for yourself! You _fucking asshole!_ How do you think I felt when I watched you do this, huh? Running into the blast radius at ten seconds before detonation, of a bomb whose payload we weren’t even entirely sure about? Do you have a fucking death wish? Because if you do, I’m not going to stand around and watch you die. OK? I can’t do it!”

Tony’s eyes widened in shock and he stared at Tim in silence.

“I will not just stand around and watch you die, you hear me?” Tim continued to rant.

“Th-there was a kid…”

“I don’t fucking care about some kid! It’s _you_ I fucking care about! _You,_ DiNozzo!”

It was after that declaration that Tim took a breath and a step back. Tony was still staring at him, shellshocked.

Finally Tony licked his lips. “I don’t have a death wish, Tim,” he said softly. “I promise.”

Tim’s heart was still racing. He nodded grudgingly. Although the sound of Tony saying his first name without the usual mockery and derision made his heart go pitter pat in a way that threw him.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“OK.”

They stared at each other in silence for another long moment before Tim turned the light off, grabbed a chair and brought it closer.

“You could climb in if you want,” Tony offered, scooting over on the bed. “I don’t mind.”

Tim glared at him, kicked off his shoes and angrily shrugged out of his jacket before he climbed onto the narrow bed, settling in and tucking Tony firmly into his side. Tony sighed and yawned, trying to suppress a groan as he moved even closer and onto Tim.

“Sorry…” he muttered softly.

“Shut up,” Tim told him curtly. “Go to sleep.” But the hand that ran up and down Tony’s body, gentler than usual, fingers going through Tony’s hair, belied his shortness.

“You’re a strange man, Tim McGee,” Tony told him after a moment.

Tim glared down at him, before he kissed Tony’s hair and determinedly closed his eyes.

The next day, after Tony was released from the hospital, Tim was waiting to take him home. They went straight to Tim’s apartment and there was no discussion about it. Tony meekly limped into the car, allowing Tim to take his crutches and throw them in the back seat. When they got to Tim’s building, he accepted the crutches and Tim’s arm to walk to the elevator, and into Tim’s apartment.

But once Tim closed the front door behind him, Tony shoved him up against it, pinning him to the door, even though he was on crutches and one arm was still tightly bound up in a sling. His mouth slanted against Tim’s claiming it in a kiss that was definitely not green light or in any kind of gray area. That hot mouth, tongue delving into Tim’s mouth, and the moan of arousal was definitely, thankfully, _finally_ , red light, and Tim pulled him closer, fisting his hair and angling his head to deepen the kiss. His dick instantly hardened in his pants and Tony was struggling to free himself from the sling while his other hand slid down into Tim’s pants, palming him through his boxers, all the while throwing himself into the kiss, refusing to separate even when the crutches fell on either side of them with a loud thump. Tim couldn’t help but thrust up into Tony’s hand when hot fingers gripped his erection, moaning into Tony’s mouth.

But when Tony began whimpering with frustration in his quest to free himself from the sling, and he began wobbling, balancing only on one leg since he couldn’t put much weight on his injured knee, Tim had to forcefully tear his mouth away and pull Tony close, putting their foreheads together. They were both panting and out of breath and the sound Tony made when he physically pulled away almost made him come in his pants.

“Let’s move this to the bed, before you hurt yourself even more,” Tim whispered.

Tony grabbed his hand and started towards the bedroom, and Tim ended up catching him before he could fall, the stupid lunkhead, and helping him limp there. He didn’t object when Tim pushed him straight into bed and fell on top of him, although he yelped when Tim accidentally put weight on his knee. Smiling apologetically at him, Tim helped him spread his legs and he settled in between them, careful of Tony’s braced knee. They went back to kissing and Tim stopped him from trying to escape from the sling with a firm shake of the head. But he undid his belt and pants and pushed his pants halfway down his hips, and carefully pulled down Tony’s sweatpants, exposing his throbbing cock. He took a minute to admire it, it was beautiful, as cocks went. They had of course seen each other naked in the NCIS gym showers over the years, and he’d jealously guarded the sight of Tony’s naked body, damp from the shower, as he talked and talked as he dried off and got dressed. Tony was a talker, through and through, and his years in boarding school had obviously inured him to communal showers and nudity. So Tim had definitely seen Tony’s dick before. But this was the first time he had seen Tony’s dick hot, hard, and blood-filled, the head mushrooming and beginning to bead with moisture.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Tony grumbled, letting go of Tim’s cock and instead, grabbing Tim’s hand and pulling it onto his dick, gasping and arching up when Tim made contact with it.

Tim leaned down and claimed Tony’s lips again, pumping Tony’s dick even as Tony began working on his. Tim started kissing down Tony’s jawline and neck and Tony was arching up into him. When their cocks first rubbed together, they both moaned. Tim immediately adjusted himself so they were aligned and began thrusting against Tony’s dick, and Tony wrapped his fingers around both of them, his good leg going around Tim’s hip.

“Fuck,” Tim gasped, as he began moving faster.

“Lube,” Tony demanded. “Now.”

Tim looked down and saw how Tony’s pupils were blown and despite being practically fully dressed, he somehow managed to look debauched at the same time. Maybe it was the kiss swollen lips or the mussed hair, or the pupils so dilated that there was only a ring of green encircling it.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he groaned, leaning down and crushing his lips against Tony’s. But he pulled away and fumbled in the nightstand drawer for the lube. He accidentally put a little pressure on Tony’s injured shoulder when the man bit his nipple through his shirt as he reached across him, and Tony’s hiss of pain had him apologizing and trying to kiss it better. Finally he squirted lube carelessly on Tony’s outstretched palm and when Tony wrapped his lubed hand around both their dicks and spread it around as his hand moved up and down them, Tim had to bite Tony’s pecs, hard, to stop himself from coming.

“Let’s go,” Tony demanded, arching up and gasping as he thrust into his slippery fist. “C’mon.”

Tim started thrusting into Tony’s fist, reveling in the feel of Tony’s velvety skin on his erection, dicks sliding against each other through Tony’s fingers, kissing whatever bits of Tony’s skin he could reach and he could feel Tony shudder and arch up as his hands worked them faster, tighter, both of them speeding towards release at breakneck speed. Tony added a twist to his hand motion and combined with his grunts and moans made Tim lose control. He began thrusting mindlessly into Tony’s hand, fingers fisted tightly in Tony’s hair, unable to stop himself. He could hear himself chanting words to Tony before he curled into Tony’s body and came all over Tony’s hand and belly and chest, gasping Tony’s name as he emptied himself. He spurted long and hard, gripping Tony’s hair tightly and biting his neck, shuddering as Tony continued to milk him as he continued to jerk them both off, Tim’s cum becoming additional lubrication. He was fast approaching becoming oversensitive when he reached down and took over from Tony’s hand, getting his hands all over Tony’s gorgeous cock, pumping him a few times before Tony stiffened, arched up into him, and with a strangled cry his cock erupted. Tim continued to pump him a few more times before slithering down and sucking on his dick, cleaning it and swallowing the last few delicious spurts of Tony’s orgasm.

He crawled back up Tony’s body, kissed Tony’s mouth hard before he collapsed beside him, taking Tony’s good hand in his, pulling it onto his chest in a way that made his heart tighten, remembering the first time he did that, not long after that awful op.

After they caught their breaths, Tim turned onto his side, propping his head up with a hand, still keeping Tony’s hand in his other hand, holding it right by his heart. He smiled to see Tony lying there, eyes closed, the most relaxed he’d seen him.

“So,” he finally said.

Tony’s eyes opened and he turned his head, tendering Tim a sweet smile. “So,” he repeated back.

“ _That_ happened.”

“Hmmm.”

“You OK with it?”

Tony shrugged, but the smile stayed on his face.

“You OK if we explore more of it?”

Tony nodded, mostly with his eyes than his head.

Tim reached over and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair and then down his cheek. “Are you always this talkative during and after sex?” he asked. “Because you sure talk like crazy everywhere else.”

Adorably, Tony blushed. “Depends on the person I’m with,” he finally said, when Tim continued to explore Tony’s face with his fingers, running his fingers on the ridge of Tony’s eyebrow, down the length of his nose and over his lips, lingering there.

“Is it a good sign or a bad sign that you’re not talking?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

“Good,” Tony immediately answered, reassuring Tim.

“So if you were all talky talky then it’s a one night stand, but if you get all tongue tied then you aren’t sure what to say because you don’t know how to say words like, say… ‘will you be my boyfriend’?” Tim teased him.

Tony shrugged but the blush heightened.

“Is that why you’ve just practically moved in with me, like a stealth ninja, but we haven’t talked about any of it?”

“D’you want me to get my stuff out of here?” Tony’s insecurity came shining through.

“That is not what I said,” Tim punctuated each word with a kiss on Tony’s hand. “But we might need a bigger place if this continues.”

“I have plenty of room in my apartment,” Tony offered. “It’s bigger than yours.”

“Your bed sucks though.”

“I like yours,” Tony sounded shy. “It would fit in the bedroom.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Tim’s eyes widened when he realized what Tony had said.

“Yeah?” Tony bit his lip. “We could get a different apartment if you prefer, but you know, I do own my place and I know that you’re still renting…”

Tim kissed him, and they spent a few minutes just exploring each other’s mouths leisurely, without the urgency from before. When they pulled apart, Tim sighed. “So you’re sure about this? You really want me to move in and live with you?”

Tony nodded, green eyes intense.

“Why?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

Tony shrugged. “I just want to wake up where you are,” he said, and Tim thought that the blush that accompanied the words was adorable. “Every day.”

Tim smiled down at him. “I guess when you do talk, you don’t mess around?”

“I guess.”

“OK,” Tim nodded.

“OK what?”

“OK, I think my bed would fit nicely in your apartment.”

Tony’s smile was dazzling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We can find a place for your writing desk, too. My TV is bigger than yours so we should keep that, but your gaming stuff will fit in the living room. You can hook it up to the TV out there.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“OK.”

Tim leaned over and kissed Tony again, and the older man sighed into the kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Tim confessed when he pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But we agreed, back in the beginning, that there would be no funny business.”

Tony grinned at him. “I don’t think what we just did would fall under the umbrella of ‘funny’.”

“Funny guy,” Tim rolled his eyes. “Thought you would have heard me jerk off in the shower while you were here, some of those mornings. Couldn’t help myself. Thinking of you almost naked in my bed.”

Tony’s grin widened. “Well neither of us are even close to being naked now.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he looked down at them. Both of them had their pants halfway down their hips and shirts rucked up under their armpits, but that was about it.

“I better get us cleaned up. You. Stay,” he started to move away but Tony pulled him in for one more kiss. After that, he helped Tony out of the sling long enough to pull his shirt off and wipe him clean and then he put the sling right back on, ignoring Tony’s objections. Tony was to wear it 24/7 for at least three days. And he carefully pulled Tony’s sweatpants off and put a pair of his own boxers on him, taking care not to jar the injured knee.

“I don’t, you know,” Tony told him conversationally as Tim stood to put a t-shirt and fresh boxers on himself.

“Don’t what.”

“Have a death wish.”

Tim stared at him. Tony stared back, all business now.

“I had to get that kid today,” he continued. “You know I couldn’t have just done nothing.”

“I _know_ that,” Tim said impatiently. “But you keep throwing yourself in danger without a single thought for your own safety. Always. You always do that.”

“Somebody has to.”

“Look, I know you think it should be you because you think no one will miss you if something happened to you, but I’m telling you right now, I _won’t_ get over it if you died when we could have taken a different approach. I don’t mean about today,” Tim cut Tony’s excuses off. “Other days. Other times. You can’t go on like that. Our work is dangerous enough without you taking unreasonable chances with your life.”

Tony stared at him, biting his lower lip.

“I’m not asking you to not be yourself. I’m just asking you to care about the fact that I care about you and your safety and if something were to happen to you, people will care. People _do_ care. I care. Abs cares. Gibbs. Even Ziva cares about you. And you have to think about Ducky. You can’t put him and Palmer through the ordeal of having to be the one to do the autopsy on you, too.”

Tony finally nodded. “OK.”

“Thank you.” Tim kissed him and held him for a long time. “Now let’s eat something.”

Some reheated leftover take out and a pain pill later, they were back in bed and this time Tony had been given the good drugs and he was indeed loopy, mouthing along with the movie Tim had put on the TV and going off on weird tangents. But after a little while, Tony’s eyelids drooped and the meds kicked in fully, and knocked him out.

Tim sat in the bed and read, one hand carding through Tony’s hair gently. He looked down at the sleeping man and smiled. Well. Maybe yelling had been the way to go. He looked forward to moving his things into Tony’s apartment, and in that moment, he could see them growing old together and Tony continuing to sleep holding on tightly to him every night. The thought of Tony wanting to wake up where he was every day filled him with so much happiness. Things were definitely changing for them, and there wasn’t anything he wanted to change about that.

**Author's Note:**

> 01 January 2018
> 
> Hi everyone and Happy New Year!
> 
> WestEndBroadwayBaby, I do hope you enjoyed this story :D
> 
> And now that the authors have been revealed, I wanted to do my usual thing - put the music that helped me write the story in the end notes! For this one (my first McNozzo, who knew I'd ever write one?) there were 2 songs.  
> 1) [She's So High](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ElORM9O-0U%20) (Tali Bachman) - I felt that this expressed how Tim felt, that Tony would never consider him as a romantic interest  
> 2) [Slide](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yP4qdefD2To) (Goo Goo Dolls) 
> 
> The title of the story comes from a line from Slide, "I want to wake up where you are". I know, I was in a very 90s mood I guess :D
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed this!
> 
> <3  
> -j  
> xoxo


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